


Outcasts

by draculard



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Who wouldn't fall for Hagrid's rustic charm?, after the war, post-epilogue
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-22
Updated: 2019-09-22
Packaged: 2020-10-26 03:35:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 935
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20735573
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/draculard/pseuds/draculard
Summary: Lucius Malfoy was a difficult man to find after the war.





	Outcasts

Lucius Malfoy was a difficult man to find after the war. Malfoy Manor had been abandoned to the hands of the Ministry, with rumors it would one day become a museum highlighting both the horrors of the war and the splendor of the Sacred 28. Narcissa had moved to be near family in France; she sent letters by owl sporadically, with affection and concern for her former husband, but Lucius suspected most of her correspondence went to Draco and Astoria, as it should.

His new home was modest and stood in the middle of a clearing in a Muggle field. The land had been cheap enough; it was bordered by private property, a forest fenced off with flimsy old boards. The Muggle neighbors were all far enough away to never bother Lucius; if they thought anything about the strange, silver-haired man with his old-fashioned clothes, they never voiced it.

He had only one visitor he cared for.

Rubeus.

The giant arrived unannounced on the first visit; Lucius hadn’t known that anyone in the wizarding world knew where he lived. He’d seen Hagrid approaching from his cabin window and for a moment he’d frozen in panic, forgetting that the war was over, that he and Hagrid were no longer on opposing sides.

Except they’d always been on opposing sides, hadn’t they? He’d done his best to get Hagrid ousted, sent him to Azkaban three years before the Dark Lord rose from the dead. For years, it had been an imaginary war of Lucius’s own making.

There was no camaraderie between himself and the giant. Hagrid couldn’t be visiting for any good reason.

Except he was.

He pounded on Lucius’s door frame with one enormous fist, shaking the entire house. When Lucius answered the door, his face was paler than usual, his jaw set tight in determination. Determination to do what he did not know.

“Yes?” he said weakly.

Hagrid eyed him. His expression was inscrutable, bushy brows pulled low over his eyes. Then, gruffly, he presented Lucius with a large, wrapped package.

“Made yer some biscuits,” he said. “Ain’t th’ tastiest in th’ world, but they’ll do yer fine enough.”

Speechless, Lucius could only stare at the package. The brown cloth it was wrapped in looked greasy and ancient. He was horrified to find himself taking it from Hagrid.

“Thank you,” he said finally, when he found his voice again. “I —  would you like to come in?”

He wasn’t sure why he made the invitation. Hagrid seemed reluctant to accept, but eventually he gave a slight nod and ducked through the door. 

“I’ll put the kettle on,” Lucius suggested, bustling away from the giant in his parlor. He busied himself in the kitchen, hands trembling as he aimed his wand at the quaint Muggle kettle he’d purchased from a neighbor’s rummage sale. It took him three tries to produce a viable flame, a testament to his nerves.

As the water boiled, he snuck a glance over his shoulder at Hagrid, who was perched awkwardly on one of Lucius’s human-sized chairs. A thousand questions flooded Lucius’s head, and he bit his lip as he considered which one to voice  — but in the end, he discarded them all, unable to summon the courage to ask them.

He brought Hagrid his tea silently and took a seat opposite him at the kitchen table.

“Doin’ awright?” Hagrid grunted, sipping the tea while it was still putting off steam. Lucius blinked at him, momentarily speechless.

“Yes,” he said eventually. “And you?”

It had felt so strange, then, to make small talk with the half-giant whose life Lucius had tried so hard to destroy. Even now, after visits and biscuits innumerable, Lucius found it strange. A haze of surreality lay over his visits with Rubeus, like some great wizard had cast a spell encasing the two of them in their own private bubble where anything could happen. 

Rubeus had been an outcast all his life, Lucius remembered. Perhaps that was why he chose to visit Lucius in his isolated, rural home.

And perhaps that strange spell, the bubble which encased them and made every little thing seem normal and comfortable and good  —  perhaps that explained what happened next.

One moment Lucius had been listening almost dutifully to Rubeus’s description of his violent, magical garden and the next moment he’d been captivated by the little burns on Rubeus’s wide, broad hands.

Rubeus caught him staring. “Oh, this?” he said. He stopped gesturing immediately to examine his hands. “Blas’ ended skrewts,” he said. “Nasty buggers. Got ‘em by breedin’ a Manticore an’ a fire crab.”

Silently, Lucius took one of Rubeus’s massive hands in his own slender ones. He touched the burns gingerly, probing the surface to see how serious they were. He drew his wand without hesitation, though every little usage of it was now monitored by the Ministry, and traced the tip of it over Rubeus’s wounds. He was aware the whole time of Rubeus’s dark eyes boring into his skull. He was aware, too, of the cool white flow of healing magic through his veins, rushing out from his heart like a soothing wave of ice-water on a hot day.

The burnt flesh smoothed itself out. The pockmarks filled out; the shiny quality of the skin grew dull again, so that Lucius could once again see Rubeus’s pores and the coarse, dark hairs covering the back of his hand. 

When he finally glanced up again  —  when the burns had fully healed  — Lucius found Rubeus still staring at him.

Later, he’d never be able to say for sure who initiated the kiss.


End file.
